Like Sweet Lemonade
by Jetshinsei
Summary: It's summer vacation, and all Freddie has on his mind is a hammock, a stack of books, and a pitcher of ice cold lemonade––if he can manage to keep his plans a secret from a certain blonde, anyway. Seddie. Post iLove You.
1. Chapter 1

**Like Sweet Lemonade**

**Summary: It's summer vacation, and all Freddie has on his mind is a hammock, a stack of books, and a pitcher of ice cold lemonade––if he can manage to keep his plans a secret from a certain blonde, anyway. Seddie. Post iLove You.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own iCarly.**

**Chapter 1**

Freddie Benson stared at the slowly ticking clock on the wall, willing the second hand to move faster. One more minute. In just one more minute, his junior year of high school would be over.

It wasn't like he had any huge plans. There was no around the world trip. There was no epic beach adventure. All that was waiting for him was a large brown box, a pitcher of lemonade, and the latest book in the Game of Kings series.

He, Sam, and Carly had already agreed that they wouldn't be doing iCarly for the next two weeks. They wanted the first week off to recuperate from final exams, and the second week of vacation Carly was going to see her grandfather in Yakima. Speaking of Sam...

His eyes slid over to the blonde across the room, and amusingly, her eyes were also trained on the clock at the front of the room. She already had her things packed up, and her knees bounced with anticipation as she waited for the bell to ring. Actually, everyone in the room was doing the same, but she looked especially eager to book it.

He could hear students out in the hall and groaned. Those were the lucky kids. The kids who had cool teachers for their last class that understood that the school year was over and that was no point in even trying to teach them anything. Unfortunately, he was stuck with Ms. Briggs. Ugh.

He glanced up at the clock and grinned. Ten seconds to go. It's not until a second later that he realized someone trying to start a countdown, and it took another second to recognize the voice of Sam.

"...7, 6, 5..." she said, completely ignoring the daggers Briggs sent her way. But what was she going to do? Give her detention? There wasn't a teacher in the school, no matter how miserly they were, who would stay after on the last day.

By now half the class had joined in with her, and he swore he could hear people in the hallway also counting down.

"3...2...1...!"

The bell rang and the loudest cheer he'd heard since last month's Cuttlefish concert resounded throughout the school. Paper flew into the air, kids left the room in a flood, and a very unfortunately positioned Ms. Briggs was nearly trampled to death. Unlike everyone else, though, Freddie calmly stood up, slipped his bag over his shoulder, and walked out into the hallway, carefully sidestepping his fallen teacher. A couple of years ago he might have helped her up, but not anymore. Sam must've rubbed off on him.

The only way to describe the scene in the hallway was pandemonium. Kids were running up and down the hallways, friends were hugging and crying...you know, the works. He waved at a few people, high fived a couple others, and hugged a girl or two as he walked towards his locker.

He'd already cleaned most of it out the day he took his last exam, but there were still a few necessities that he had to take home. Namely, his extra set of clothes (something you learned to keep on you when you were friends with Sam Puckett), the box of fatcakes he kept to keep Sam off of his back, and a few cans of spray paint Sam had stashed in his locker after a particularly horrible prank she'd pulled on Mr. Howard a few days prior. Huh. Everything in his locker was a result of her.

He closed his locker and sighed. Well, that was that. It was officially time to put his summer plans into motion.

The walk home was relatively eventless. Sure, there were a few of his classmates running down the street shirtless (to be more specific, Gibby), but that was normal. Unfortunately.

"Freddie?" Marissa Benson asked, a little surprised to see him walk through the door so early. He usually spent time chatting with Sam and Carly after school, and when he finally did get home, he'd just toss his backpack into is room and head across the hall.

In the beginning it had bugged her immensely. She wouldn't see Freddie all day except for breakfast and dinner, and since her life revolved around him–a fact she wasn't at all ashamed to admit–she often found herself lonely and bored.

It was the sole reason she'd joined the Seattle chapter of the Aggressive Parenting organization, the side benefit being that she realized she was one of the milder parents in the group. If the kids thought she was crazy, they should come to one of her meetings.

"Hey, mom."

The woman stepped out of the kitchen, worriedly checking him over for injuries. "Why are you home so early?"

Freddie shrugged. "I'm just tired. I'm gonna be in my room until dinner," he said, smiling slightly for her sake.

She watched him head down the hall towards his room. There was obviously something going on with him, but if it meant that he was going to be home more often, she wasn't going to complain. Much.

He threw his backpack into a corner and immediately got to his knees to grab the box he'd stashed under the bed the week before. Grabbing one of his keys–because there wasn't a box cutter in the house and his mother constantly monitored the knives–he slipped one of them under the tape and ripped the box open.

A grin popped up on his face as he pulled the second, slightly smaller box out. On it, the words 'Handmade Yucatan Hammock' were printed boldly across the top. It was Matrimonial size–because he wanted as much room to move around as possible–and it'd cost him a cool fifty bucks. Fifty bucks of 'completely worth it.'

He made quick work of the packaging and peeked inside to make sure that the light beige hammock was indeed there before opening his window and hopping out onto the fire escape. It was a beautiful day outside, and as good as any to put it up and try it out. The directions were fairly straightforward, and in just under ten minutes, he had the hammock hanging securely between two railings on the fire escape.

He was a little worried that it wouldn't support his weight, so he slowly and awkwardly climbed onto the hammock. After one unsuccessful attempt that landed him butt first on the metal grate he finally managed to balance himself, and God was it comfortable. The hammock conformed to his body and cradled him like a newborn baby.

The gentle swinging quickly made him sleepy, and in minutes he was out.

The next day he didn't wake up until noon. His nap the day before ruined his sleep schedule, so he'd stayed up until four in the morning watching movies on his laptop.

Freddie quickly changed into a plain t-shirt and a pair of shorts before ambling into the kitchen. He'd prepared lemonade the morning before, and after a full day marinating in the fridge, it was guaranteed to be delicious.

He grabbed an apple and a clean glass and got ready for his first official day of summer with no Sam, no Carly, and no stress.

As he lie comfortably on the hammock with his book propped up in one hand and his glass of lemonade–complete with bendy straw–in the other, he felt his mind drift to the reason he was doing this in the first place. In other words, he began to think about Sam.

That's right, the reason he was hiding out on his fire escape was so that he wouldn't have to deal with his ex-girlfriend. It's not that he didn't like her. It was the exact opposite, actually. They still hung out almost everyday, and they still did iCarly together even after they'd broken up. He just never really had a chance to get over her.

It was especially hard since he hadn't really wanted to break up in the first place. She'd brought it up first after hearing what Carly said about Spencer's relationship, and like the over agreeing idiot that he was, he'd assented. He constantly wondered what would've happened if he'd said 'no, I don't want to break up,' but it was too late for that now. It'd already been well over three months.

It drove him crazy to have her so close and not be able to touch her, or kiss her, or have her smile at him in that mischievous yet alluring way that she used to. Going over to Carly's place was his own personal hell, and now that he finally had some breathing room what with the show being cancelled for a couple of weeks, he fully intended to get over her for good. It was a sabbatical of sorts.

Of course, he hadn't told anyone of his plans. He couldn't tell Sam for obvious reasons, and If he told Carly, she'd just say he was being stupid and tell Sam what he was up to, ending his plan before it even started. Gibby would squeal if Sam came to him for answers (She could be very persuasive when she wanted to be), and his mother, well...there was no telling what she would do. She'd either support his plan wholeheartedly or freak out about him being outside all day. Basically, it was just safer all around to keep the whole thing to himself.

The buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention, and he looking at the screen, he saw that it was Carly. Great. It hadn't even been a full day yet and she was already curious about him.

"Hey Carly," he said, trying to fake enthusiasm. The fact that he had to pretend that he actually cared to talk to her almost made him laugh, especially considering the fact that he used to have the absolute biggest crush on her.

"Hey, where are you?"

Freddie furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember if he'd agreed to meet up with her. Drawing a blank, he answered as vaguely as he could. "Out, why?"

"Oh. You didn't come over yesterday or today, so Sam and I–uh, I mean, just _I_ was wondering if you were okay."

"I'm fine, just been sleeping off the stress from finals. You know how it is." He heard Sam say 'See?' in the background and realized that Carly had him on speakerphone. He hated it when she did that.

"Well, okay. Are you coming over today?"

"No, sorry. Actually, I might not be around much for the next few days."

The phone went silent for a while, and he checked his phone to see if it was even still working. "Freddie, what is this about?" it finally said, crackling back to life.

He wasn't surprised that they were concerned since they were his best friends and all, and luckily, he'd planned for this. "I'm just taking a break from everything. you know, recharging my batteries. I'll definitely be back around in time to see you off when you go to Yakima."

"But that's a week from now!"

"Sorry, Carly, I gotta go. Tell Sam I said hey," he said, even though he knew the blonde could hear him. he quickly hung up the phone and tossed it onto the ground next to his hammock. He wasn't too worried about them trying to come over and find him since his mom wasn't home to let them in, and if Sam picked the lock, all she'd find is a dark, empty room and a closed, curtain-drawn window. He made sure to hide his shoes, too, tossing them in the back of his closet so that it looked like he'd actually gone somewhere.

He felt slightly guilty, but he'd worked most of that out within the first week when he'd first come up with this plan over a month ago. He reasoned that this would make them all even better friends since he hopefully wouldn't be secretly lusting over Sam every time they hung out, and who knows? They might actually be able to get new significant others, since he found it hard to even look at another girl while Sam was still so prominent in his life.

Freddie poured himself another large glass of lemonade, settling himself back down to continue reading. He'd hung a tarp from the railings on the floor above him to block out the majority of the sun, and with his iPod playing gently on the steps next to him, his little hideout had become somewhat of a paradise. If he could get a fridge and a fan out here, it'd be all but perfect.

His phone buzzed, signaling that he got a new text message. He picked it up and groaned. It was from Sam.

**Sam: dude get your nubby butt over here**

He really didn't know what to do. In every scenario he'd imagined, Sam never contacted him. It was either Carly, Gibby, or Spencer who tried to get in touch. The blonde just wasn't the type to express that she wanted someone around. Especially not after only a day.

**Freddie: What's up? I'm busy right now.**

**Sam: doing what polishing your mathlete trophy**

**Freddie: Sam I'm just busy. I'll talk to you later.**

He put his phone on silent and dropped it back onto the hammock and tried to get back to his book, but he was curious about what else she had to say. When he checked his phone an hour later, though, she hadn't texted him again so he figured that she was done. It was just as well, he was a little too eager to hear from her.

The next five days went much the same as the first one. He'd wake up, eat something, take a pitcher of lemonade and some books out to the fire escape, and waste the day away. The only real changes were that he'd found an old fan to add some cool air to his little hideaway and the occasional appearance of his laptop to watch movies or chat to his other friends on SplashFace. Invisible, of course.

The best part was that he'd barely thought about Sam at all. Okay, the first day had been a little rough. He'd practically stalked her SplashFace page to see what she was up to and even her visited her Tweeter a couple of times. After blocking her account on both sites, though, he'd found it much easier to forget all about her and get sucked into the Game of Kings world.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. He'd promised that he'd go over to see Carly before her two week trip to Yakima even though it seemed a bit awkward to do that now when he hadn't seen her in almost a week. She was sure to drill him about his recent scarcity.

He dragged himself out of bed, slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and slowly walked into the kitchen. "There you are, Freddie! I feel like I never see you these days!" His mother exclaimed, standing up from the couch. He noticed that she was watching some DVD on effective flea bathing techniques. Great. "Do you want some breakfast?"

Freddie grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. "No thanks, I've got it. I'm going over to Carly's."

His mother's face fell slightly and she sat back down in front of the TV. "Well, alright. Be home by dinner."

He nodded and slipped on his shoes before heading across the hall and opening the door. Of course, Sam was sitting on the couch, legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table. "Yo," he greeted, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt.

He wasn't expecting an answer, but he certainly wasn't expecting the murderous glare she sent his way. She hadn't looked at him that way since they were in junior high, and if he was being truly honest with himself, it was frightening. He waited for her to say something, but when it became obvious that she had no intentions of speaking to him, he stepped further into the apartment.

"Where's Carly? Is she done packing yet?"

She didn't answer him and continued to glare, so he shrugged to himself and bounded up the stairs two at a time, hoping he could make it back to the safety of his apartment without a beat down.

Her door was open so he decided to just walk on in. Carly was hunched over her dresser, pulling clothes out by the armful. It was just like her to wait until the last minute to pack.

"Hey Carly, need some help?" he asked, sitting down on her bed.

"Freddie!" she practically squealed, turning around to wrap him up in a hug.

He awkwardly lifted his arms to hug her back, not quite expecting that level of excitement. "It's only been a week."

She pulled away and rolled her eyes. "A week too long! Sam's been such a buzzkill without you around." As soon as the words left her mouth, she slammed her hand over it. "I mean, not saying she missed you or anything, but like...uh...so, you wanted to help me?"

Freddie tried not to show his surprise. Sam missed him? Well, actually, it wasn't that shocking. Most people thought of Sam as a cold, heartless, unfeeling bitch, but she wasn't like that at all. Not even close. In some ways, she was more sensitive than half the people at Ridgeway.

Granted, it was only the people closest to her that ever got to see this side of her, but it still existed. He felt a little bad about doing this to her, but it'd be better for both of them in the long run.

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"Ummm, can you pack up my laptop stuff?"

He shrugged and headed over to her makeup station. "Sure." Her desk was a mess of cords and cables, so he set to work untangling them all one by one. He got a not-so-secret joy out of organizing and cleaning things–a trait he'd probably inherited from his overbearing mother. It wasn't until five minutes later that he finished.

"Carly, I'm done–" he started, turning around with her laptop bag. Instead of seeing the brunette, though, an angry Sam was glaring at him from the doorway.

He couldn't help it; he gulped. the look on her face was the stuff of nightmares. She closed the door and locked it behind her.

"What's up, Sam?" His eyes flickered to the window, wondering if a fall from the eighth floor would really kill him.

"Shut it, nub. You're going to tell me what the hell your problem is even if I have to beat it out of you."

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week," he teased, hoping it would lighten the mood.

He noticed her eyes flash, but just as quickly, it disappeared. "Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't care if you dropped dead in a gutter."

Freddie winced. That actually kind of stung. She seemed to realize that it'd hurt him as her face softened. "I didn't mean that. Look, Carly's freaking out on me about this whole thing and for some reason thinks it's my fault. Just tell me–is it my fault?"

Yes, it's your fault. It's your fault for being so smart. It's your fault for being so beautiful. It's your fault for being irresistibly cheeky. He didn't say any of that though. Instead, he shook his head. "Not everything's about you, Puckett. Alright?"

Her eyes bore into his in that annoyingly invasive way that he'd become used to. She was a master at telling when someone was lying, but he'd also gotten pretty adept at hiding the truth from her. The key was to maintain eye contact and keep your face completely neutral. "Okay," she relented after a good ten seconds, "But show your face every now and then."

Freddie shrugged noncommitedly. Fat chance of that happening. He walked past her and opened the door, slipping out before she could say anything else. He practically ran down the steps, hoping that either Carly or Spencer were around to protect him. Luckily Carly was sitting at her computer, scrolling through what looked to be her SplashFace page.

"What was that about? Why did you leave me with Sam?" he asked, trying not to sound angry.

Carly guiltily looked up from the computer. "Well, she knows you best, and I was hoping you two would work out whatever's going on. Did you?"

"No, because there's nothing going on. Is it really that weird for me to not want to hang out with you guys every single day?"

Her downtrodden expression made him wince. Perhaps that had been a little mean. Sighing, Freddie held out her laptop bag for her to take. "Here, I packed it all up for you."

Carly smiled halfheartedly. "Thanks."

"Where's Spencer?"

"He's at Socko's picking up a suitcase. He used his old one in a sculpture. You know, the 'mini-robo hobo clown in a suitcase' thing that caught on fire."

A snort slipped out of Freddie's nose at the memory. It was both the most hilarious and disturbing thing that Spencer had ever made, mostly because of the creepy giggling that came from the clown's mouth whenever you opened the suitcase. Hell, he still occasionally had nightmares of the robot's voice melting as it burst into flames, the clown's high-pitched laugh dropping an octave with each passing second until it sounded like something that had come out of hell itself.

At that moment, Sam came back downstairs and plopped down on the couch. He noticed she looked a little less angry than she had before, but she still refused to look at him. At least in Carly's presence.

"So, have fun in Yakima," he mumbled, feeling the awkwardness in the room reach heights he hadn't thought possible.

The brunette leaned forward and hugged him again. "Thanks, and you try to keep Sam out of trouble. Who knows what she'll get into when I'm not here?"

"Your fridge, most likely," Sam murmured from the couch.

He smiled at her answer but quickly wiped it from his face a second later. He hated how easy it was for her to make him smile.

"I'll...I don't know, I might be busy. But have fun, okay?" He pulled himself out of her grasp and strode out of the door before either of them could say another word, and he didn't take another breath until he was back out on the safety of his fire escape. That was close. Carly was just about to use her famous 'Please, for me?' line on him, he could tell. It wasn't nearly as effective as it used to be, but to keep up appearances, he usually gave in. As long as people thought he was crushing on Carly again, no one would question his feelings for Sam. So far, it'd worked beautifully.

Still, Freddie felt uneasy, and he couldn't help but feel as though something was off. It'd been a little bit too easy for him to get away from Sam, and having known the girl for over four years of his life, he knew that she never gave up on anything without a substantial fight. Maybe she really didn't care for his company anymore. But then why had she gotten so angry with him?

He shrugged it off and pulled out his laptop, deciding to perform some site maintenance to kill time. He ran a speed test on all of the pages to make sure they were still running as smoothly as the day they'd been put up and then checked the site's ranking on search engines to see if the search engine optimization he'd done the week before was yielding any results. Luckily, it seemed to be doing it's job. They were getting a thousand more hits per day.

By the time he finished it was almost dark outside, so he yawned and dragged in his things. He wasn't too worried about anyone stealing his stuff since the fire escape faced an alley and the next building over had no windows on his side. Even if you walked down the alley no one would be able to see anything since he was on the eighth floor, and getting onto the fire escape was a whole other ordeal in itself since the ladder had to be let down from above.

All that said, he didn't want to risk leaving anything electrical outside just in case it rained. It was still Seattle, summer or not.

The smell of something good cooking reached his nose as he slipped into his room and Freddie raised his eyebrows. It was rare that anything his mom cooked was ever appetizing.

"What's for dinner, mom?" he asked, floating his way into the kitchen.

His mother looked up and smiled. "I learned an amazing recipe for healthy oven-fried chicken from one of the other nurses at the hospital and wanted to try it. Did you wash your hands?" When he nodded, she continued. "Then would you be a dear and set the table?" she asked, turning back to stirring something on the stove.

Pleased and a little surprised by how non-overbearing she was being, he quickly moved to do as she asked. Since it was just the two of them it only took him a couple of minutes to get everything set up so he plopped down in his usual seat facing the door.

He felt his stomach grumble as his mother used a spatula to place an extremely juicy looking chicken thigh on his plate along with a spoonful of brown rice and broccoli. After serving herself, she sat down in the seat adjacent to him.

They said a quick prayer and dug in. "This is amazing," Freddie moaned after taking a bite of his chicken.

A rare, proud smile appeared on his mother's face. "Why, thank you, Fredward. Perhaps I could make this again sometime."

"I'd love you forever! I mean, not that I don't already, but even more than I do now!"

She laughed at his over enthusiasm and took a bite for herself. "Do you think even Samantha would approve of this fried chicken? We could invite her over to try it." Her smile quickly fell as she noticed the expression on her son's face. "Freddikins?"

Freddie quickly pasted on a fake smile. "It's nothing. Carly went on vacation to Yakima and now I'm stuck with Sam. Just a little afraid for my life," he explained, chuckling weakly.

Despite what a lot of people thought of her, Marissa Benson was no idiot. She was a little overprotective, yes, but she still had her common sense, so as much as she wanted to hate Sam for how she used to treat Freddie, she couldn't. Every since they'd dated, the blonde had been just as protective as she was of Freddie. Well, maybe not to that extreme, but she obviously went out of her way to look out for him.

Like the time Freddie was hit by the taco truck. She'd been initially shocked by how little Sam seemed to care about the whole situation and had written the girl off as an unfeeling, good for nothing little delinquent–at least until she'd gotten up early one morning to check on him. Somehow Sam had snuck into Freddie's room while she'd been sleeping and was sitting on the bed next to him, stroking his hair just gently enough so that he wouldn't wake up and catch her.

It wasn't so much the uncharacteristic action that surprised Marissa as it was the concerned look on her face. It was like she was worried that he could die at any moment, or maybe she felt some remorse for not being fast enough to save him. Either way, the fact that she was there at all had given her major points with the woman, and it also helped her to realize that the way Sam treated Freddie in public was completely different than the way she actually felt about him.

So that was why she didn't believe for a second that Freddie was afraid of Sam hurting him. Physically, at least. "Is that really what's bothering you?"

Freddie shrugged his shoulders, spooning another mouthful of rice down his throat. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled unconvincingly.

Even though she wanted to ask what was really the matter, she instinctively knew that it was time to drop it. The truth would come out sooner or later. It always did.

**AN: The plot seems simplistic, I know, but I don't want to give too much away. Takes place a few months after they break up. I'm not huge on long ANs, so if you're curious about something, please ask! **

**Also, this story was my NaNo fic last year, just decided to finally post it. Can't let so much work go waste.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Like Sweet Lemonade**

**Chapter 2**

The next morning Freddie woke up bright and early–if noon could be considered early, anyway. He'd slept a lot longer than he thought he would, but smiling to himself, he realized that it didn't matter. For the next couple of weeks, he had zero obligations. No school, no activities, and no iCarly–even though he loved doing the show.

He rolled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, and after a quick breakfast of bland cereal and an apple, he grabbed his pitcher of lemonade and headed out to the fire escape for another long day of lounging. He didn't really feel like reading, so he was planning on watching one of the many tv series he'd gotten behind on during the school year on WebFlix.

What he didn't expect to see was Sam already lying down in his hammock, arms tucked lazily behind her head. She wore a pair of short cargo shorts and a plain white t-shirt, long blonde hair fanning out behind her head. A UFC magazine lay open on her stomach, and a box of Fat Cakes rested next to her. If he wasn't so shocked to see her, he might've thought she looked cute all stretched out and relaxed like she was.

She opened one lazy eye, glanced at him, and smirked. "This is a pretty sweet setup you've got here, Benson. I can see why you were blowing us off."

It took him a good minute to collect his thoughts enough to speak, and even when he did, the word came out weak and hoarse. "How?"

That smug little smirk that both annoyed and endeared him to her widened into a full smile. "Mama has her ways."

Freddie groaned, feeling his entire plan crumble before his eyes. Of course she wouldn't make it that easy. Sam _never _made anything easy. He crossed his arms and glared down at her. "Well, you can't stay here. This is _my_ fire escape and _my_ hammock."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it? Tell your mommy?" she laughed, fully turning her head to look at him.

His face soured as his mind struggled to think of ideas to get her out of his space. He could grab his water gun and spray her with water, but that'd just end in him getting a beating. He could take her FatCakes and throw them off of the fire escape in the hopes that she'd run after them, but that would also end in him getting a beating _and_ being forced to buy her new ones. The only real option he could think of was to forcibly remove her, and even though he still had a chance of getting a beating, he'd hopefully be able to use the element of surprise to get the upper hand.

With that thought in mind he tried to pull her off, but she was much more strong and agile than he gave her credit for. Unsurprisingly he was on his back in two seconds flat, staring up at the tarp he'd put on the floor above him to keep the sun out. The most embarrassing part was that she hadn't even gotten off of the hammock. "Come on, Freddifer, you should know better than that."

Freddie stood up and brushed himself off, glaring daggers at her the entire time. "Fine, you want to stay out here so bad? Whatever. I'm out of here."

Sam lazily lifted an arm and waved him off. "Bye."

Shooting her one last glare, he climbed back through his window and shut it behind him, drawing the curtains a moment later. How had she even gotten up there? Did she go through his room while he was sleeping? Or maybe she'd snuck into the apartment below his and climbed up?

And now what was he supposed to do? Both his spot and summer plans were ruined and there was nothing he could do about it. Sighing, he went into his room and turned on his desktop computer. Maybe headshotting some zombies would calm him down. Unbeknownst to his mother, he'd easily slipped around the parent lock she'd placed on the WiFi and had been downloading violent video games for years.

He tried to concentrate on the game but despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop glancing over his shoulder every few minutes. Even though he'd drawn the curtains and the window was closed, having her so close still made him feel a little uncomfortable-and playing a video game that was all about paranoia probably didn't help much either.

Shutting the computer down, Freddie sighed loudly and stomped over to his dresser. He couldn't stay here. Not while she was out there. He threw on some clothes and headed down to the Groovy Smoothie for a drink. Maybe a Blueberry Blitz would give him some good ideas to get rid of her.

He made the short trek to the restaurant next door, relieved to finally have some distance between himself and Sam. "Hey, T-Bo, can I get a Blitz?" he asked, speed walking into the building and putting a five dollar bill on the counter top.

The man stopped what he was doing and stared at Freddie like he was stupid. "I don't know, _can _you?"

Freddie rolled his eyes but laughed, the taller man's antics cheering him up a bit. "Fine, _may_ i have a Blueberry Blitz?"

"Now there we go!" With a speed that could only come from making hundreds of smoothies a week, T-Bo whipped up his drink in only a minute and placed it in front of him. He didn't bother telling him the cost, instead just grabbing the bill and placing it in the cash register.

"Thanks Teebs, keep the change." He grabbed his drink and slipped into the table he usually shared with his friends, finding it way too weird to sit anywhere else.

As he sipped at the amazingly refreshing drink, he let his mind pore over ideas for how to get rid of Sam. He could lure her away with bacon, but she'd just come back once she was done eating it. He also considered calling her mom, but chances were, she'd laugh and tell him to grow a pair just like Sam would. His best idea was to simply take down the hammock and tarp, but that would've been both a disappointment and a waste of fifty hard earned bucks.

"Freddie? Hey!" a deep, familiar voice called from the entrance of the shop.

He lifted his eyes and grinned when he saw who it was. "Oh, hey, Gibbs. What're you doing here?"

"I came for a Strawberry Slam. Why aren't you with Sam?"

Freddie shrugged. "I thought it'd be weird if it was just the two of us. You know, since Carly's in Yakima and all."

The familiar, confused frown pasted itself onto Gibby's face, and he leaned forward as if their conversation was some sort of secret. "Why would it be weird?"

"You know, because we used to date."

"So? Tasha and I used to date and we still hang out every couple of weeks to get coffee."

Freddie sighed. He had to admit that Gibby had a point. They'd broken up on rather amicable terms, so why _was_ it a big deal?

Even as the question entered his mind he knew the answer. It was because he could still feel something between them. It wasn't like when he'd broken up with Carly after his accident. Initially he'd been a wreck, but after a couple of days, he'd forgotten what it was like to even have a girlfriend.

It wasn't like that with Sam, though. Everyday he fondly remembered what it was like to have her as his girlfriend, and his body ached to hug or kiss her every time he laid eyes upon her. He had to make a conscious effort to not sit or stand near her, and every now and then, he'd even dream about her. Usually she'd be causing him some sort of pain, but she was always smiling beautifully while doing it. Freddie blinked as he thought about that last point. That definitely wasn't normal. "It's just different, okay?"

Gibby shrugged his shoulders, taking his drink from T-Bo and thanking him. "I'm just saying that I don't see the problem. It'd only be awkward if you still liked her or something." He paused for a second, noticing the stricken look on Freddie's face. "You still like Sam?!"

"Sssshh! She's got ears everywhere!" Freddie hissed,

"But you broke up! It was mutual, wasn't it?"

Freddie shrugged and sipped on his drink self-consciously. "I guess. I don't know."

"Well, if you didn't want to break up, why don't you try asking her out again?"

"Come on, Gibby. That's stupid. Even if I wanted to put myself through that torture again, she'd never go for it."

"If you say so. Hey, my fries are up." With a speed belying his size, he hopped up and sped over the counter, leaving Freddie to his thoughts.

Gibby had him thinking about Sam in that way again and he hated him for it. He'd just recently forced himself to stop having feelings for her, but now he was having second thoughts. What if Sam didn't want to break up either? What if she'd wanted him to disagree with her but he'd just wimped out?

Freddie sighed, placing the cold smoothie cup against his forehead. Just thinking about this was dangerous. Sam was the kind of girl who drove you crazy from the inside out with only a glance. She was the kind of girl who could chew you up and spit you out and you'd still crawl back onto her fork so that she could do it all over again.

He took a long, hard gulp of his smoothie, reveling in the pain the action caused in his head. It was just enough to stop his thoughts in his tracks. Why was he even thinking about all of this? He'd made his decision. He had a plan and he was sticking to it, no matter what.

* * *

The sound of Green Day's American Idiot blasted from the speakers of his phone, and since he absolutely fucking hated that song, it was just annoying enough to wake him up and get him out of bed. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

For the sole purpose of beating Sam to his own hammock, on his _own fire escape_, he'd set his clock for nine in the morning, knowing full well that she never got up that early unless she absolutely had to. He sprinted from his room to the kitchen, grabbed his lemonade and a couple of pieces of fruit to munch on, and ran back to his window. After opening the curtains and the window, he peeked outside to see if she was out there.

A relieved sigh slipped past his lips. He still had time. He carefully pulled out his fan and PearPod and set them up in their usual places. He then grabbed the latest book he'd been reading and settled himself into the hammock, comforted by the fact that he'd beaten her. Sure, he was a little afraid of what she'd do if and when she arrived, but at least he had the advantage of already being there.

It took him awhile to fully relax since he was constantly on the lookout for a certain tyrannical blonde, but once the book grabbed his imagination, he quickly forgot all about their little war. At least until he heard the loud clack-clacking of flip flops coming up the fire escape.

Freddie gulped loudly. This was it. The triumphant moment where he finally put her in her place. He waited a few seconds for her to say something, and when she didn't, he finally looked away from his book to stare at her. He almost smiled at the annoyed frown on her face, oddly pleased that he was the one who put it there. She wore a pair of jean shorts and a bright yellow tank top, and her familiar red plaid backpack hung from her right shoulder.

"Problem, Puckett?" he smirked, unable to help himself.

Sam scowled. "Yeah. You're in my spot."

"I was here first, and this is my spot. Go to Carly's or something." Although he was talking big, on the inside, he was growing increasingly frightened by her lack of reaction. It was like the calm before the storm, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she snapped and threw him off of the fire escape.

Instead, she simply walked over to his hammock, kicked off her flip flops, and shoved her way onto the hammock with him.

Freddie's eyes popped wide open in shock. Out of all the things he expected her to do, that hadn't even occurred to him. "W-what are you doing?" he asked, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. His grand scheme of forgetting his feelings for Sam was all but trashed now, and really, he wondered if it wasn't doomed from the beginning.

"This hammock is big enough for _three_ people, so stop being a dork and move over some," she snapped.

He considered getting up and leaving again but instead reluctantly did as she asked, scooting over until she had enough room to lie down next to him. He didn't want her to win for the second time in a row, and besides, he'd gotten pretty comfortable.

She rooted through her bag until she pulled out a UFC magazine, this one different and bigger than the one she'd had the day before. She then pulled out a can of Peppy Cola and opened it before raising it to her lips and drinking half of it down in one go.

It annoyed the shit out of him how cool she was being about this while he was practically a wreck. He could feel the warm skin of her arm pressing against his, and thanks to the laws of gravity and tension or whatever, they were practically on top of each other in the middle of the hammock. He stared at her from the corner of her eye, watching her flip nonchalantly through the pages of her magazine. Was this really not affecting her at all? The fact that she was lying so close to her ex-boyfriend while wearing so little clothing?

Well, fine. If she could do it, so could he. He lifted his book up and tried his absolute best to block out the feelings she was stirring within him, forcing himself to enter the world of his book. It took half an hour and a particularly amazing battle scene, but he eventually forgot that she was there.

Unfortunately, since he'd stayed up late the night before and gotten up so early to beat Sam, he hadn't gotten enough sleep. The words in front of him began to blur and run together, and even though he fought it as best he could, he eventually drifted off into a deep slumber.

Five hours later he woke with a start, accidentally dropping his book onto the metal grate below him. He sat up tiredly and surveyed the area, only to find both Sam gone and his pitcher of lemonade empty save for a few half eaten lemon slices in the bottom of the container. He must've really been out of it for her to get of the hammock without waking him up. He was both relieved and disappointed that she was gone, and since the sun was going to go down in half an hour or so, he decided it was as good of a time as any to head on inside.

He performed his usual ritual of dragging all of his things inside before going through the window himself. The problem with napping so early in the day was that he usually ended up staying up too late. He couldn't really go anywhere after nine without special permission thanks to his curfew, so he was stuck inside for the rest of the night.

It wasn't until he ambled into his bathroom and looked in the mirror that he saw the large, prominent letters written on his forehead in marker:

**LOSER.**

* * *

The next day he didn't wake up until 11am. He hadn't bothered to set his alarm to try to beat Sam to the hammock. There was no point: if she wanted to be on his hammock, she would be. He glanced out the window to see that she wasn't out there yet, and hopefully she wouldn't show up at all. He ignored the small part of him that was disappointed.

He went through the motions of what had become almost like muscle memory and was out relaxing on the fire escape in under twenty minutes. He was thumbing through his ComputerWorld magazine when he heard the familiar sound of Sam's flip flops as she scaled the fire escape and automatically moved over to make room for her.

"Fredward," she greeted, dropping her bag and easing gracefully onto the hammock next to him.

"Puckett." Even though he frowned at her, he was secretly pleased that she was there. He couldn't explain it, but her presence seemed to make everything better.

It wasn't like she made his life perfect. Far from it, actually. She created more problems than she solved, and she was constantly distracting him from the things he was supposed to be concentrating on like school and his career goals. She was a thorn in his side that he wouldn't be able to get rid of unless she decided he could.

He didn't mind the bad stuff too much though because the good far outweighed it. When Sam was around, there was rarely a dull moment. Even when they were just sitting on the couch watching some stupid show like Celebrities Underwater she was interesting, adding her own sarcastic commentary or observations every couple of minutes.

She wasn't afraid to drop everything at a moment's notice to have fun. She wasn't afraid of getting into trouble or worried about pleasing everybody. Most people thought she was lazy, but she was a veritable bundle of energy who lived for the next new adventure. She did what she wanted whenever she wanted.

So that's why he wasn't too shocked when she suddenly pulled off her shirt and flung it onto the ground, revealing a dark blue bikini top. The only explanation she'd offered was a shrug and a mumbled 'it's hot out here.'

Freddie swallowed noisily and tried not to stare. He'd seen her in her bikini plenty of times, but never alone. Never while there was no one around to see them and say something if they decided to get fresh with each other. Not that it would happen since he was supposed to be ignoring her, but just the fact that they _could_ without any consequences weighed heavily on his mind.

He awkwardly flipped through his magazine, every now and then sliding his eyes over to see what she was reading. It was, surprisingly, one of the girly magazines that Carly loved to read. She must've run out of UFC or Meat Weekly magazines.

"I'm bored," Sam sighed after another few minutes of reading. She threw the magazine onto the ground below them and pushed at his shoulder with her left hand. "Go get your laptop."

He looked over at her and frowned, trying to ignore how great her hand felt on him. It was pathetic, really. "Why?" The punch she landed on his bicep after he asked made him to wince. How could a girl that small get so much power when she was practically right on top of him? She made absolutely no sense.

"Just do it!"

Sighing loudly, he carefully rolled out of the hammock and slid into his bedroom window to grab the laptop he'd left on his desk. It was only at half power, so he decided it'd probably be a good time to test out the cool new portable solar laptop battery his uncle had sent him on his last birthday. He hadn't seen much use for it since he spent so much of his time inside, and he wasn't even sure if it worked.

"Here," he grumbled, pushing the device into her lap after installing the new battery.

In an uncharacteristic show of gratitude, she smiled over at him. Okay, so the smile had been more smug than anything, but it was still more than he usually got from her.

Freddie stared over her shoulder as he watched her type something in the address bar and his curiosity quickly got the best of him. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for a movie to watch. Anything you wanna see?"

"Sam, using those sites is illegal," he scoffed.

The blonde looked over at him and laughed. "Seriously, Fredward? You're trying to stop _me_ from doing something by saying it's _illegal_?"

"I'm just saying that there's no point in using them in the first place. I have Webflix, you know."

Sam snorted loudly. "Webflix only puts shit movies up."

Well, he couldn't deny that. It was rare that there was ever anything worthwhile to watch unless you were looking for a good, ironic laugh. A sharp nudge in his side drew his attention back to the grinning girl next to him.

"Hey! They have the newest Death Puncher 3 up! You wanna watch it?"

He blinked a little at her question. Was she really asking his opinion? Still shaking his head, he answered. "Yeah, the last one was great. Queue it up, I guess."

She wasted no time in pressing play, allowing the video load. In the meantime, she checked her SplashFace and e-mail accounts.

Freddie smirked and rolled his eyes as she updated her status with the words 'About to watch an amazing movie with the biggest dork in the world' and tagged him in it. He was a little surprised that she was admitting to hanging out with him, and was even more surprised when the status got five thumbs up within a couple of minutes; one from Spencer, one from Carly, one from Gibby, one from Sam's troll account Melanie Puckett (he figured she must've liked it from her phone), and one from Sam herself.

"I'm startin' it now," she said, switching back to the window with the video on it. She quickly full screened it and turned the volume all the way up before moving the laptop so that it was lying half on her lap and half on his.

The first scene was of the main character, Death Puncher, knocking the head off of a bad guy and Sam immediately burst into a fit of laughter as blood sprayed from the dead man's neck.

He didn't know how she could find it funny when all he wanted to do was throw up. It was the grossest thing he'd ever seen, and that was saying something since at the end of the last movie Death Puncher had knocked the heads off of ten guys with one punch.

Luckily the movie actually grew some semblance of a plot as it went on, and he eventually felt himself began to get sucked into the story. It was enthralling, really. It went into Death Puncher's past and how he learned to perform the fatal Death Punch in the first place. It also went into the death of his friends and family, something that he found added a lot more to the franchise.

Sam apparently didn't share his opinion as about halfway through the movie she'd fallen into a deep sleep. She was snuggled frighteningly close to him, and her face was nestled comfortably into his neck. He could feel her warm breath against his neck as she slept, and it was doing all kinds of amazing things to him.

He sort of wanted to move, but at the same time, he didn't. It felt comfortable having her lying next to him. It was like they'd never broken up, like they were still together and this was all completely normal.

He watched her sleeping face with a strange sense of detachment. She looked so serene that it was hard to believe she was the same demon who could flip a man three times her size with minimal effort.

In a move that he knew was suicidal, he reached his hand over to move her long, blonde hair out of her face. He tucked it behind her ear and dropped his gaze to her light pink lips. Lips that he hadn't kissed since midnight three months ago.

Freddie's eyes widened as he realized exactly what he was thinking about doing. Was he out of his mind? Not only would Sam kill him, but he was supposed to _stop_ having feelings for her. That's what this whole hammock thing had been about in the first place, right? Not falling in love with her again?

He turned his head away from her and frowned. "Damn it, Sam. Why the hell won't you leave me alone?" he muttered under his breath.

The movie ended a few minutes later, but he didn't even know what had happened. As far as he knew everyone blew up in a fiery, nuclear explosion and died. Being as careful as he could not to disturb her, he moved the laptop from her lap to his. Since he wasn't going anywhere for awhile with her leaning on him, he figured he might as well do some more work on the site and check over the comments to make sure they were kept PG-13.

He was halfway done moderating when he felt Sam stir on his right. She groaned quietly and yawned, blowing hot air onto his neck. "How long was I out for?" she murmured, eyes creaking open.

"About an hour. You missed most of the movie." He refused to look at her, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hide how uncomfortable she was making him if she got a good look into his eyes.

"No big deal, it was sucking anyway." She leaned her head down closer to stare at his screen. "What're you doing?"

Freddie glanced at her from the corner of his eye, confused by the fact that she had yet to move away even after discovering their close proximity. It was like she didn't mind being so close to him, and that thought annoyingly brought more questions than it did answers. "I'm just making sure no one writes anything too terrible. Kids come on the site, you know."

Sam was quiet for a few seconds as she too read over the comments. One in particular must have caught her attention as she scoffed loudly and pointed at the screen. "'This is the shittiest thing I've ever seen in my life. It's like it gets less funny every week. Fuck iCarly,'" she read, voice getting angrier with every word. "If they don't like the show, why do they even watch it?"

He deleted the comment and shrugged, lightly hitting her chin with his shoulder. "He's probably an internet troll. Someone who says things just to get a response."

"And I thought _you _had no life."

He rolled his eyes and she laughed, the action doing wonderful things to the chest that was pressed up against him. They spent the next hour scrolling through the comments with Sam adding her two cents every time a really mean or funny one popped up. They were nearing the end when a particularly awkward comment appeared on one of the Wake Up Spencer segments:

**'Sam and Freddie are soooo still in love with each other! Do you see the way they look at each other when they think the other isn't paying attention?! Their eyes are sooo full of love! SEDDIE 4 EVER!'**

It wasn't the first time they'd seen a comment about their relationship, but this one had managed to strike a chord if the way they both stiffened was any indication. "Well, that's stupid," Sam mumbled, finally moving away from him. She sat in silence for a couple of minutes before slowly slipping out of the hammock and putting back on her top. She shouldered her bag and headed down the fire escape with nothing more than a simple 'Bye.'

Freddie started after her, confused. Had the comment really put her off that much? And if so, why? Was it because she actually had been looking at him like that while he wasn't paying attention? Or was it because she thought he was looking at her like that? He groaned and closed the laptop, already sick of thinking about it.

With Sam coming over everyday, he decided to postpone his plan to distance himself from her. It was impossible if she wasn't willing to leave him alone, and it was becoming clear to him that nothing short of being 20 hours away would get her out of his hair.

Luckily, two weeks from now, he would be.

**AN: Wow, I honestly didn't think the story was good at all. I didn't even finish it; got to 22k words and quit. That's roughly 4 more chapters, so you guys are guaranteed at least that much. Let me know what you think! You might hate what happens in the next few chapters, but we'll see. Also, the T is for language; I tend to slip in a few words here and there, usually in their internal monologue. Because let's face it; who doesn't swear in their minds?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Like Sweet Lemonade**

**Chapter 3**

He hadn't really been expecting her to show up the next day. He'd assumed that after yesterday's awkward moment she'd stop coming over, but she showed up for the rest of the week as if nothing had even happened. He noticed with a little disappointment that she never took off her shirt again, though.

Of course, they never talked about it. Like usual they swept it under the rug and went on with their lives. Not that he minded. In fact, he was glad. He'd grown annoyingly comfortable with having her around and would rather there not be more awkwardness than necessary until he left. He'd rather not see at her all until he left, but that wasn't really an option anymore.

"Oh my God, I'm so _bored_!" Sam yelled, throwing her magazine across the fire escape.

Freddie looked away from his laptop and shrugged at her proclamation. "So? What do you want me to do about it?"

She paused to think for a couple of minutes, and when she suddenly smiled, he instantly knew he wouldn't like whatever she'd just come up with. "Let's go to the beach! It's only eleven."

"Sam, the beach is half an hour away from here and neither of us have a car. We can't," he explained as if speaking to a three year old, turning back to his computer.

As if she hadn't even heard him, the blonde was on her feet and throwing her things into her bag. "Don't worry about it, I'll borrow my mom's. You just be ready to go in half an hour." Before he could stop her she was already three floors below him, the sound of her sandals growing fainter and fainter as she descended.

Freddie's face soured. Great, a beach trip alone with Sam. It wasn't that he didn't want to go. On the contrary, he loved the idea. He hadn't been to the beach since last summer and would love to dig his toes into the sand. No, it was the thought of riding with Sam, the worst driver he'd ever _seen_, that scared him.

This wasn't a whole 'women can't drive' thing, either. Sam was just...reckless. She drove at a minimum of ten miles over the speed limit, cut people off like she was trying to do it on purpose, and regularly texted behind the wheel. She was a nightmare on wheels, and it was a wonder that she hadn't been pulled over yet.

He strongly considered blowing her off, but somehow, he knew that it wasn't really up to him. If she wanted him to go, she'd drag him kicking and screaming to the car in whatever he was wearing. She was both strong and determined enough to do it.

It only took him ten minutes to pack up the things he thought he'd need for the beach: swim trunks, sunscreen, a couple of large towels, sandals, fifty bucks of emergency cash, and sunglasses. Sam said she wouldn't be back for another twenty minutes, so he lie down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He'd really become sort of lazy this summer, but he reasoned that he had every right to be considering how busy he'd be soon enough.

A heavy pressure on his stomach woke him up what seemed like two seconds later, and he slowly slid his eyes open to see Sam staring down at him, an annoyed scowl plastered onto her face. "Freddie! Get up, it's time to go!"

He blinked the sleepiness away and tried to sit up, but he quickly realized that he couldn't with her sitting on him. "How did you get in here?"

"Let's go," she said, ignoring his question. She hopped off of him and slipped back through his window, and he followed a minute later after grabbing his things.

He didn't know what kind of car he'd expected her to bring, but he definitely hadn't been expecting a Mini Coupe. It was bright blue and looked relatively new, and two white stripes were painted on the hood. Freddie felt his jaw drop. "Did you steal this?" he asked, hesitating in front of the passenger side door.

Sam pressed something on her keyring and all of the doors unlocked simultaneously. "Relax, it's my mom's. She's dating a used car salesman and he got her a great deal on it."

Still unsure, Freddie took a tiny step forward. "And your mom's okay with you borrowing it?"

"Just get in, nub." She hopped into the car and started it up, gunning it to force him to hurry up. It worked. He quickly hopped in and buckled his seatbelt, grumbling the entire time.

"I swear, if you get me arrested for accessory to grand theft auto..."

"You'll what? Cry?" she laughed, putting the car into gear. She drove out of the Bushwell parking lot at double the posted speed limit, nearly jumping the curb in her haste to get to the beach.

He wasn't able to relax until they were on the freeway, and luckily, the road was relatively clear of other vehicles since it was a weekday. He'd even convinced her to only go five over the speed limit by promising to buy her snacks when they got closer to the beach.

The silence between them was starting to get a little awkward, so he pulled out his PearPod and FM modulator, plugging it into the car's lighter socket. He didn't quite know what to play until he scrolled down his list of playlists and saw one that made his breath catch in his throat:

**Sam's Ultimate Party Mix**

He felt a small smile stretch across his face as he remembered the night he and Sam had made it. She'd hijacked his computer and gone through his entire library of songs, picking ones that she deemed worthy and dropping them into a new playlist. They'd gotten into a minor scuffle after she had dissed pretty much his entire library that ended up with her on top of him on his bed, her lips pressed roughly against his own.

Man, that had been a great night.

Freddie shrugged the memory away and started the playlist. At least there was a guarantee that she'd like everything in it.

As soon as the first song–Hounds of Love by the Futureheads–started playing, Sam snapped her head around to look at him. He pretended to stare nonchalantly out of the window as if her all time favorite song had just _happened_ to come up on shuffle.

He heard her begin to hum along to the tune, every now and then singing a few lyrics and tapping the rhythm out on the steering wheel. He couldn't help it; he smiled. He'd never told her, but he loved her singing voice. It was so rich and soulful, full of the emotions she would never voice otherwise. It was almost a disappointment when the song ended, but he knew what was coming next. The sound of Matt & Kim's Lessons Learned blasted from the speakers.

"Is this my playlist?" Sam asked, glancing away from the road.

Freddie raised his eyebrows. "You still remember what songs were on it?"

"Duh, I made it." She danced in her seat to the music, singing the lyrics word for word. He didn't know it as well as she did, but he knew the chorus by heart since he'd listened to this playlist a few dozen times after they'd broken up. When he joined in on the song, she shot him what had to be the largest smile he'd seen on her face weeks.

It took them an hour to reach the coast, mostly because Sam had made an abrupt stop at a grocery store to pick up snacks that he'd had to pay for as part of their deal. All things considered, she hadn't bought that much-a twelve pack of Peppi Cola and three large bags of chips. He'd been expecting to drop at least twenty dollars, but he hadn't even cleared ten.

They reached the ocean five minutes later, bypassing the spot they usually went to. She'd chosen a secluded spot that had a huge 'No Trespassing' sign planted in the sand, and despite his reservations, she hopped out of the car and ran towards the water at full speed, shedding clothing until she was wearing nothing but her blue bikini top and a pair of short black swim trunks that he only realized later used to belong to him five years ago. When the hell had she stolen them?

Sighing, Freddie followed after her, picking up her discarded shirt, shorts, and shoes all while balancing their things. Sometimes he felt like more of a servant than a friend. He took a few minutes to lay out their towels and snacks before pulling off his shirt and heading into the ocean with her.

The water was cool against his hot skin, and he sighed loudly at how amazing it felt. All of the previous ire he'd felt towards Sam was immediately washed away with the waves, leaving behind a deep sense of gratitude towards her for dragging him out here.

It reiterated exactly why he'd fallen in love with her in the first place.

It wasn't just because she was beautiful, or funny, or smart. It wasn't even because she was fun to have around. It was because she added an entirely new dimension to his life. If he'd never met Sam, he wouldn't be who he was today. He'd still be a nerdy, somewhat socially awkward loser. He'd still be doing everything his mom told him to and would never have had the courage to stand up to her and tell her that he was done with the tick baths and dorky posture-correcting shoes.

Yeah, her teasing had hurt-both mentally and physically-but it'd made him man up. It made him take a look at himself and realize that hey, he really was sort of a loser nub. He didn't get rid of his nerdy hobbies of course, but he had learned how to balance them with the rest of his life.

Some might argue that he shouldn't have had to change, but he was infinitely happier as he was now. He'd been on so many adventures and done so many new things since he'd become friends with Sam, and suddenly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to stop loving her anymore.

it was at that moment that he once again remembered how big of a failure his summer plan to stop thinking about her had been.

He couldn't even blame Sam for everything. All he had to do was stop going out onto the fire escape until Carly got back. He just as easily could've hung out in his room, at the Groovy Smoothie, or hell, even Gibby's place. He'd made his bed and now he had to lie in it.

Something soft, light, and wet hopped onto his back, and after a momentary freak out, he realized that it was Sam. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him backwards, sending them both tumbling into the cool salt water.

"Sam, what the hell?!" Freddie yelled, gasping for air as he broke the surface.

She laughed from further out in the water, long blond hair turned dark by moisture. "What're you gonna do about it, Fredwardo?"

A low growl that surprised even himself erupted from his throat, and in an unusual show of speed, he swam out to where she was and lifted her up in his arms, grinning at the shocked look on her face. He then threw her back into the water, satisfaction coming in the form of the squeal she let out. When she emerged a couple of seconds later, he laughed at how similar she looked to a drowned rat.

At least until splashed what felt like a bucketful of water into his face. He sputtered and coughed as she shrieked with laughter, wiping at his face with his hands.

"Okay, you asked for this, Puckett." He didn't give her a chance to dodge as he used both of his arms to send twice the amount of water into her face, smirking at the pissed off frown that spread across it. She was going to kill him now, but at least he'd die happy.

Fifteen minutes of begging for mercy later, he lie on his beach towel in an attempt to dry off. Sam was still doing cartwheels and backflips in the sand in front of him, the movements doing all kinds of wonderful things to her half covered body. It was torture watching her and not being able to do anything about it. She eventually wandered over and plopped next to him, chest still heaving with exhaustion. She lie back on her towel and closed her eyes, beginning to nod off like she usually did whenever she physically exerted herself.

"Sam, wait a second," he said, digging around in his bag for something.

"What?"

He emerged with a bottle of sunscreen and held it out to her. "You might want to use some of this. You're pretty pale, you know."

Sam smiled. "Oh, yeah, thanks." She squirted a dollop into her hand. and rubbed it into her skin until she had covered everything she could reach. She handed him the bottle back and lie on her stomach, pulling her hair away from her back. "Can you do my back?"

Freddie gulped at the request. He knew she'd ask, but it still caught him off guard. "Only if you do mine. Deal?" She nodded and he got to work, rubbing the lotion onto her smooth, soft skin. As he applied the lotion to her back she moaned and sighed, and against his will, he felt himself begin to get a little turned on.

"Hey, since you're already back there, why don't you give me a massage? Your hands feel good," Sam mumbled.

"I'm not your slave. Now do me." He lie down face first on the towel and tucked his arms under his chin, waiting for her to start.

"In your dreams," she smiled cheekily, the smile widening when she saw his face redden. Still, she took the bottle from his hands and began to work the lotion into his body. "It rubs the lotion on the skin or else it gets the hose again," she whispered, leaning down into his ear.

Freddie laughed awkwardly, trying to ignore the chills her breath in his ear had sent down his back. She was quoting the lines from a movie they'd watched on their second date. Emphasis on _watched._

She slapped his back hard and sat back on her own towel. "All done."

"Thanks," he grunted sarcastically, turning over and sitting up. He rubbed at his back, certain that there was already a bright pink hand print forming.

"Don't say I've never done anything for ya." She grabbed a bag of the chips he'd bought and opened them, stuffing a handful of the potatoes into her mouth.

He felt his jaw drop a little when she held the bag out towards him. "Are you sharing _food_?"

Sam frowned and pulled the chip back towards herself. "Well, if you don't want any–"

"I do! I mean, you just usually aren't so...generous."

"Yeah, well, I don't really like this flavor," she shrugged. "Are you gonna take some or not?"

He reached his hand into the bag and grabbed a large handful, shoving them into his mouth just like she had. For once he didn't care about crumbs or grease. He didn't care about the amount of trans fats or how much of the cancerous dye Yellow #7 there was in the ingredients.

At some point he pulled out his PearPod and speakers and put the device on shuffle, and they sat together and talked under the hot sun until it slowly began to dip towards the horizon. It was the best day he'd had in weeks, and it was all because of the spontaneous blonde sitting to his right. A nagging question was tugging at the back of his mind, though, and eventually his curiosity got the best of him. He turned his head to look at her, trying to keep his voice from sounding too desperate. "Sam, what's this all about?"

She didn't look at him for a few seconds, but eventually, she shrugged. "I like hangin' out with you."

A combination of relief and disappointment flowed through him. He wasn't sure how to feel about her answer. "I like hanging out with you, too, but you have to admit that this is kind of weird." He instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing when her eyes flashed angrily in his direction.

"Why? Why is it weird? Because Carly's not here? I thought we said we'd still be friends," she seethed.

Freddie quickly raised his hands in front of himself, hoping to calm her down. "We are! Of course we're still friends!"

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Is that why you set up a hammock on your fire escape to avoid me?"

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, but she'd nailed it. It was almost scary how well she knew him. Or maybe it was more obvious than he'd thought. "It wasn't to avoid _you,_" he said after a tense minute. He had to choose his words carefully or things could go down really badly for him.

She snorted again and turned her head away from him, glaring at something off in the distance.

"Sam...it was to avoid how I feel about you."

She whipped her head around to stare at him, bright blue eyes wide and shocked. Her mouth moved like she was trying to say something, but words refused to come out.

"Don't worry, it worked. I'm over it now." He noticed her face fell a little at his words. Was she upset about the fact that he was over it? That wasn't possible. She'd been the first one to suggest the break up, after all. He'd just gone along with it.

He didn't have much time to ponder the possibility as she suddenly begins to pack up her things, tossing them haphazardly into her plaid red backpack. She then stands up and walks towards the car without a word, leaving him scrambling to catch up with her.

He'd never wished that he was psychic more in his life. She didn't look _upset_, but she didn't look thrilled, either. Her face was just...blank. Nothing like the joyous expression that had been there only an hour before.

She didn't say anything as he got into her car, and her head stared straight ahead until they got onto the freeway to head home. It was hard for him to tell if she was silent because of fatigue or because she was pissed off, but either way, he was freaking out.

He knew he shouldn't have told her. What the hell did he think she'd do? Suddenly jump into his arms and say that she felt something for him too? Actually have a frank conversation to discuss what they should do next? She was _Sam_. They were _them_. Of course it wouldn't have happened.

It wasn't until they pulled up in front of the Bushwell that she looked at him, a funny expression marring her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but a second later she closed it and shook her head. "Bye," she mumbled, looking anywhere but at him.

Freddie sat there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what he should do. Eventually he grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car. If she didn't have anything to say to him, he didn't have anything to say to her either. He waved slightly and walked towards the apartment building, regret growing with each step. He'd just reached the front doors of the building when the remorse became unbearable. He wasn't going to let this end like that night in the elevator, with him feeling like an idiot for letting her go.

He turned around to say something else but she was already driving away, taillights glowing in the darkness.

**AN: And now things make a sudden right turn.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Like Sweet Lemonade**

**Chapter 4**

Sam didn't show up the next day.

He was initially worried that he'd done something he shouldn't have and that she was avoiding him, but after thinking about it logically, realized that she was probably still tired from the previous day's activities. They'd gotten back pretty late, and she _had_ driven both ways while also doing all kinds of crazy things on the beach. It was more than likely that she was just taking a breather.

Annoyingly, the time he spent on the hammock wasn't nearly as fun without Sam there next to him. His plan to forget about his feelings towards her had backfired, and now he missed her more than ever. He sighed and took a drink from his lemonade. Even his lemonade didn't taste as sweet, though it was possible that his mom had found his stash of real sugar and replaced it with the sugar-like substance she loved so much; Silica or something.

After a couple of hours of boredom, he stumbled off of his hammock and went back inside. It didn't feel good being out there anymore. Not without her. It was pathetic, sure, but her company was like a drug that he couldn't quit.

Freddie grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts list, desperate to find someone to fill the void. He briefly stopped on Sam's name–well, it actually said 'Demon'––but continued scrolling until he found someone that was always fun, if not a little strange.

The phone rang for a few seconds, and he was more relieved than he cared to admit when he heard the click of someone picking up.

"Freddie? What's up, man?" a deep voice said from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Gibby. What're you up to?"

"Just washing my head. Why?"

Freddie blinked. "_Your_ head, or the head you had made to look like you?"

"The only head that matters, duh."

Freddie sighed and shook his head. He didn't know why he bothered sometimes. Remembering why he'd called in the first place, he shifted the phone to his other ear. "You wanna grab a smoothie or something?"

"Sure, just let me dry my head and I'll be right over. Twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, see you then." He ended the call and set about rifling through his drawers for something to wear. His eyes landed on a grey Cuttlefish t-shirt that Sam had gotten him at the last concert, and for a reason that he couldn't explain, he grabbed it and pulled it over his head. A pair of khaki shorts and Converse completed his look, and when he finally glanced at the clock, fifteen minutes had already passed. He quickly made his way downstairs, ignoring Lewbert's guttural cries like usual.

He walked through the door of the Groovy Smoothie, and not seeing his friend anywhere, shrugged and strode up to the counter for a drink. T-Bo wasn't working that day, and instead there was a cute blonde standing behind the cash register. She must've been new since he'd never seen her there before. "Hey, can I get a Blueberry Blitz?" he asked, reaching for his wallet.

The girl smiled, nodded enthusiastically, and turned around.

While she prepared his smoothie, he took the time to really study her. She had bright green, sparkling eyes that danced as she worked, and she was just an inch or two shorter than Sam–which was pretty short, since Sam was around 5'3 on a good day. A smirk constantly tugged at her pink lips, and in general, she was just a really pretty girl.

"That'll be $4.25," she chirped. As she took the money from him, he saw her glance down at his torso. "Nice shirt, I love Cuttlefish! Did you go to the concert last week in San Francisco?"

Freddie shook his head. "I wanted to, but I didn't have a ride. I saw them in Portland last month, though."

"Shame. I had an extra seat in my car." Her eyes widened a second later like she'd just realized something, and she waved her hands in front of her face. "It was just my girlfriends and me," she clarified a little too quickly.

"Maybe next time, then." He didn't know why he'd said it. He had no intention of becoming her friend let alone going to a concert with her, since frankly, he didn't think he could handle another blonde. He'd be thinking of Sam every second they were together.

She apparently didn't share the same sentiment since she slid a napkin across the counter with her phone number written on it in green ink. "Just in case you need a ride sometime," she said, smiling slightly.

Freddie raised his eyebrows. He couldn't tell if her choice of words were intentional or not since she seemed too sweet to say something crass like that, but he nodded and smiled slightly anyway. "Thanks."

He turned around to sit down with his drink when he saw Gibby grinning at him from their usual table. "What was that all about?" the boy asked, wriggling his eyebrows as Freddie approached.

Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "We just talked about Cuttlefish. No big deal."

The larger boy's eyes glanced down at the napkin in Freddie's hand and looked back up at him. "Is that her number?"

Freddie shrugged again and sipped his smoothie, already tired of talking about it. He didn't see what the big deal was about some numbers on a napkin. It somewhat alarmed him, actually. A phone number from a cute girl and he didn't care. Sam definitely had him fucked in the head.

"Dude, you seriously need to get over Sam," Gibby sighed, shaking his head as if reading his mind.

Freddie started to deny it, but soon realized that there was no point. Gibby wouldn't believe him anyway, especially since he'd been confiding in him since the break up. He knew everything about how he felt about Sam, a little bit about his now debunked summer plans–it was strange, but Gibby was somehow able to come up with the most insightful observations.

"I don't think I want to get over her anymore," he mumbled. He ignored his friend's incredulous stare and sighed. "We went to the beach together yesterday and it was…fun. I felt _happy_ for the first time in months. I know I'm being crazy, but I think she still likes me, too."

He watched Gibby's face to see what his reaction would be but was disappointed when his friend barely batted an eyelash. "Well, yeah, I knew that."

"What? _How?_"

Gibby shrugged his shoulders. "Just a feeling. She doesn't treat you like she treats everyone else. You're special to her."

Freddie blinked, more than a little taken aback by his words. They sounded strange coming from a guy who had a mold made of his own head, and he wasn't sure if he should believe him or not, but _God_ did he want to.

It would certainly explain why she was avoiding him all of a sudden. He'd told her to her face that he wasn't interested in her anymore, so it was no wonder that she was upset. He felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. But what if Gibby was wrong? He didn't have any cold hard facts. It was just a feeling, and that feeling was coming from the strangest kid he knew. There was no way he could take his word as law.

They spent another hour catching up and drinking their smoothies before Gibby had to go–something about Guppy getting his head stuck in his bike chain again. They left together and split up at the door, Gibby jogging home and Freddie taking the ten steps or so it took to get to his building.

He stood awkwardly in front of the Bushwell, not really ready to go up to his apartment just yet. His mother was probably home by now, and he really wasn't in the mood to be fussed over, so he grabbed his phone and scrolled down until he got to 'Demon.' He was worried about what her reaction would be to his text since it was the first time he'd initiated contact with her in weeks, but he figured he might as well see what she was up to. Besides, he was somewhat curious to see if Gibby's theory about her was correct.

**Freddie: Hey, what're you doing?**

He waited a few minutes for her to reply, and when she didn't, he furrowed his brows and sent another message.

**Freddie: Sam? **

**Sam: Don't text me right now**

His anger spiked slightly at her reply, but he forced himself to calm down. This was Sam. Of course her reply was going to be aggressive.

**Freddie: Why not? **

**Freddie: I thought we were good.**

**Sam: Dude just leave me alone ok?**

He growled in frustration, scaring the nice old lady who lived in 13B as she entered the building ahead of him. Why did he bother? Why did he put up with a girl like that who was hot one moment and cold the next? It was like their entire beach trip had never happened, like they hadn't just had a blast hanging out alone together. Fuck this. Fuck _her_. He was tired of her playing with his head.

He pulled the napkin out of his pocket and punched in the smoothie girl's number. He didn't really know what to say, but since he didn't have much to lose and she apparently already liked him, he decided to type the first thing that came to mind.

**Freddie: Hi, you gave me your number an hour ago at the Groovy Smoothie.**

He didn't expect an answer right away, and as such was shocked when his phone buzzed five seconds later.

**Unknown: Hi! I'm soooo glad u txted! U didnt rly say bye so i thought u werent interested :)**

Freddie winced slightly. Chatspeak bothered him, but she was just cute enough for him to overlook it.

**Freddie: Sorry, I had to leave in a hurry. My friend had an emergency. You're Cindy, right?**

**Unknown: u remember! :)**

He glanced down at the napkin where she'd written her name. Remembered. Sure.

**Freddie: It's a curse.**

**Unknown: lol ur funny :) ummm so whats up?**

**Freddie:I was just wondering what you were doing tonight?**

**Unknown: r u asking me out freddie? :)**

**Freddie: Only if you're gonna say yes.**

**Unknown: haha definitely! I get off at 6 and i can be ready at 7:30 meet you at the groovy?**

**Freddie: Okay, see you at 7:30.**

Frowning slightly, Freddie pocketed his phone and turned to head into the Bushwell. He had a date, his first since the breakup. He knew he should be ecstatic, but he just...wasn't. He thought it'd make him feel better, but it didn't. In fact, it just made his mood worse. Now he had to go through the motions and pretend that he cared about anything she was saying while trying to decipher Sam's sudden coldness towards him.

Freddie shook his head, realizing how rude that sounded. Who knows? She might actually be a great girl. Maybe even one that could finally kick Sam out of his head as impossible as it seemed.

Three hours later he stood in front of his mirror and looked himself over. He wore a pair of black jeans, a white E=mc2 t-shirt, and a simple, light blue button-up. He didn't bother brushing his hair, and he didn't feel up to shaving, so he decided to just go as he was. Besides, according to Carly, most girls dug the moderately unkempt look.

"Freddie? Where are you going?" his mother asked from the couch as he emerged from his room.

Checking his pockets for his wallet and phone, he continued on towards the door. "I have a date tonight."

She turned around to look at him, a worried frown on her face. "With whom?"

"A girl I met today at the Groovy Smoothie. Her name's, uh..." he trailed off, struggling to remember the name on the napkin. "Cindy!"

His mom's face remained unchanged. "I don't know, maybe I should meet her first. You barely even know her name."

"Mom, come on, she's not a serial killer. Probably." He quickly realized that was the worst thing he could have said when her eyes widened with fear. "We're just going to see a movie and maybe get some food somewhere so I'll be home by 11 at the latest. Okay?"

She wrung her hands but nodded. "Well, alright. Be safe, honey."

"See you in a few hours, mom!" he said, kissing her on the cheek and rushing out of the door before she could say another word. He jogged to the elevator and checked the time on his phone. He was supposed to be meeting her at the Groovy Smoothie at 7:30 but was already running two minutes late thanks to his mother.

Luckily, she didn't seem too upset when he walked through the door, and she gave him a large, bright smile. "Hi again!" she chirped, green eyes practically sparkling. Her light blonde hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, and she wore a simple grey Cuttlefish t-shirt, an olive green jacket, a black skirt, and a pair of black ballet flats. Basically, she looked adorable.

He returned her smile, suddenly a little more optimistic about this date. "Hey, you look great."

"So do you!" she replied though he noticed she seemed somewhat disappointed by his attire. Maybe he should've shaved after all.

"Ready to go?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets.

She nodded and shyly grabbed onto his arm, leaning into him a little. He led her out of the door and down the street towards the mall movie theater. It was half as cheap as a normal theater, and he really didn't want to spend all that much money on a date that might not go anywhere.

He paid for both of their tickets, and in a move that shocked him to his core, she bought the refreshments. After paying for Sam's food for so long, it really threw him to have someone pay for his for a change. She bought them a huge tub of popcorn and a soda to share (which was gross, since well, backwash) and they settled in for the movie.

He'd chosen it just because the poster didn't look terrible, but it was actually turning out to be pretty good. It was a Sci-fi flick about a space warrior princess on a quest to avenge her mother and save her kingdom from certain doom, and he was really getting into it until he felt her head lean against his shoulder.

Freddie immediately stiffened, and surprisingly, it didn't feel all that uncomfortable. He'd even go as far as to say that having a girl so close to him was a great feeling after not seeing Sam all day. She'd really been spoiling him with her presence. He forced himself to relax and concentrate on the movie.

The film ended an hour later, and at her behest, they headed to the food court for a quick meal. He bought them some Beef-Fil-A since it was cheap and tolerable and on habit, chose a table out of view of the general public.

It was a little known fact, but Sam preferred for strangers not to watch her eat if she could help it. Not because she was ashamed of her terrible table manners, but because–according to her–it skeezed her out to feel some random dude's eyes on her when she was trying to concentrate on her meal. Unfortunately, she had no problem showing off her disgusting eating habits to friends and practically welcomed their astonished stares.

"So," Freddie started, sipping his drink as he struggled to find something interesting to talk about. "You're wearing a Cuttlefish T-shirt."

She smiled slightly, probably her weakest one of the night. "I sort of thought you'd still be wearing yours and wanted to match. It seems stupid now."

Huh. So that explained her disappointment with his outfit. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand to get her attention, slightly surprising himself with his forwardness. "It's not stupid. That would've been cute."

Her smile widened and it actually made him feel a little bit happier. Maybe this date could actually go somewhere.

"I know this is weird, but you're my favorite person on iCarly. You're so good at what you do, and all of the graphics are amazing! I'm nowhere near that good yet."

Intrigued, he leaned forward a little more. He was definitely becoming interested in her now. "You know something about graphic design?"

She shrugged slightly, an embarrassed smile flashing across her face. "A little bit. I'm taking a class on it now in college."

Freddie choked on his soda. "You're in _college_?!"

"Community college. I dual enrolled for my senior year."

"Oh," Freddie breathed, slightly disappointed. Oh, the street cred he would've gotten for dating a college girl. "I thought about doing that, but..."

"Your friends?" When he nodded, she uncomfortably averted her gaze. Whatever she had to say next was something he probably wouldn't like very much. "Is it weird hanging out with Sam?"

And there it was, the question he instinctively knew she was going to ask. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Just when he was starting to forget about that demon, the one he was using to forget about her brought her up. "Not really. We're the same as we were before the whole dating thing. Anyway, how's college?"he asked, not so subtly changing the subject. He didn't want to talk about her, and hoped she was one of those girls who liked to talk about themselves–which, to his relief, she was. She talked his ear off for the rest of the time they spent at the mall, and he was exceedingly thankful that it closed at 10:30, forcing them to go home.

She was still talking as he walked her back to her car at the Groovy Smoothie, and he'd never felt so relieved to be done with a date. He'd spend half the night nodding along with her, and half the night wondering what the hell Sam was doing at the moment to where she couldn't talk to him. Maybe she'd been on a date of her own.

"So," Freddie started slowly, "That was some date."

Cindy nodded, looking up at him with a shy smile. "Sorry I talked so much. It only happens when I'm really nervous, I promise. Maybe we could do it again?"

He didn't say yes or no and instead just smiled down at her. Well, at least she recognized her own flaws–unlike Sam who refused to admit that she even had any. The blonde leaned forward as if it to kiss him, but he instead wrapped her up into a chaste hug, preventing her lips from touching his. "Night."

Her face looked disappointed, but it was quickly replaced by a small smile. "Goodnight, Freddie. Text me later?"

Like before he only smiled at her in response, and after making sure that she got into her car okay, turned around and headed for home. Just because he wasn't into her didn't mean that he wanted something bad to happen to her.

Lewbert wasn't downstairs, so he thankfully didn't have to deal with the man's pained screeches as he tracked a little bit of mud in the lobby. It was nearly five minutes after eleven, so he was rushing to make it home even though he was technically already late. He stuck his key into the lock and opened his door quietly, hoping against hope that his mother wasn't awake. No such luck.

"Fredward Benson, do you know what time it is?! You said you'd be back at 11!"

"Sorry, we got held up. She's a real talker," he mumbled, hoping the excuse would suffice. He was relieved when her shoulders relaxed slightly, telling him that he had gotten off the hook–at least for now.

"Well, as long as you're alright. Oh, Samantha came by to see you." Her face lit up slightly as she said her name, but he barely noticed since he was still trying to process her words.

Sam came by to see him? _While he was out on a date?_ His face morphed into horror. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her you were out on a date." She apparently noticed his expression as she titled her head and regarded him with a guilty frown. "Should I have lied? I thought you two broke up."

"No, mom, not lie, but–just–" he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Thanks for telling me, mom."

He rushed into his room and threw his jacket on the bed before immediately pulling out his phone. He dialed Sam's number and prayed that she'd pick up, but he already knew that the chances of that were slim before he even tried. His breath caught in his throat when he heard her voice, and immediately began to talk before she hung up on him.

"Hey, Sam, listen, I–"

"–Yo, it's Sam. If I care about you at all, leave a message and I might call you back. Actually, I probably won't. Bye."

He sighed with disappointment but decided to leave a message anyway. "Hey Sam, it's me. Sorry I missed you earlier, I...well, my mom told you, but it's not like me and you were back together or anything. It wasn't even a date, really. She's kinda boring and talks a lot, and I–Look, just call–" the beeping of her answering machine cut his call short, and he grunted with frustration as he threw his phone on his bed. Well, it wasn't the most eloquent message in the world, but it wasn't horrible, either. Hopefully she'd just delete it without listening to it.

Feeling exhausted, he hopped onto his bedspread and groaned. If he was lucky, she'd call him back. If he was unlucky, well...no use thinking about it when it hadn't even happened. He pulled off his clothes and lie in bed half naked. Having his ear talked off apparently took a lot out of him.

He was asleep within seconds, Sam still at the forefront of his mind.

**AN: Officially out of story. Now I have to write some new stuff :( But you guys are amazing, so I'll try to finish as soon as possible!  
**


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